The Weight Of An Eating Disorder

One of the heaviest burdens of an eating disorderpain and fear-how I fall for anxiety and other lies
is loneliness. Isolation is your reality. It is also athat don't serve me. I fall again and again. I report
fiction created by the disorder to insulate itself.again and again.
The disease keeps you in danger by keeping itselfI let these women see the ragged, jagged me.
safe from the relief of companionship.We laugh at the absurdities. I accept their hugs.
The truth is that the loneliest place on the planetAiring my "secrets" keeps me out of the food. It
has more inhabitants than New York City. Thereseems to be true that "We are only as sick as
are 11 million people, women and men, in theour secrets."
United States with eating disorders. Millions moreWhat happened in the two-plus decades between
suffer with "subthreshold" disordered eating that is"before" and "after?" A month after ignoring the
dangerous and secretive. I am one of thesefirst invitation, I slunk into that support group at
millions.the eating disorder clinic. I surprised myself by
In 1986 I dared to enter an eating disorder clinicjoining in a cross-country ski weekend with them.
for my compulsive binges. Before I crossed thatIt was even fun. I stepped into the next support
threshold, I had never uttered a word about thegroup offered. I made friends whom I began to
cravings that controlled me. A counselor I camesee outside of group meetings. We were hungry
to trust invited me into a support group. "I can't,"for each other.
I said. "I'd be too ashamed to talk about this withI kept in touch and I kept honest and I kept my
anyone else." Hindsight shows me the thickness offood clean.
my facade, the importance to my disease ofIn eating disorder recovery circles, then in
keeping the cover pretty and tidy, and how vastcreative writing workshops, journal therapy
the space was between my experience and mygroups, and spiritual sangha, I kept opening my
appearance.mouth.
I didn't believe there was anyone worthwhile (orI keep myself with people whose honestly-and
maybe anyone at all) underneath my thick mask.open doors to their own wobbles-inspire my trust
Zoom ahead roughly 25 years of slippery butand my truth. The crutch of food is replaced with
strong recovery. Life has slam-dunked my year:what my loneliness always really wanted: a place
death and cancer in my family along with threewhere I wholly belong.
major shifts in my work. Toss in menopausalKindred spirits are not the only element of
hormonal jabs-and insomnia. The stones that holdrecovery. It's said that "You have to do it
my recovery have begun to avalanche. Meditationyourself, but you don't have to do it alone." There
practice, confidence, my ability to re-focusis much work to be done-work that demands
automatic negative thinking-these crashed insupport.
overloaded days revving up my lifelong anxiety. IThere's not always a person handy. I also have
stand on the edge of depression familiar from thebooks. Blank books I fill with my daily experience
old days.unveiled. Books I read about others' recoveries
My weight is stable. My diet remains healthy. I am(and now, women managing through midlife).
still binge-free.Reading and writing help me be honest and
I know why. Every Monday afternoon I sit in aopen-and feel connected both to myself and to
circle of a dozen women in long-term recoveryothers who write nakedly.
from dysfunctional eating. We've met for twoI had thought recovery would be diet, nutrition,
years and are planning our third year together.and weight management. But the "fringe benefit"
Many Mondays the disease tells me I'm too busyat the core of recovery is trading isolation and
or tired to show up. I let my recovery take thesecrecy for community and intimacy.
wheel for the half-hour drive. My ego urges me toDon't stay in the loneliest place on the planet. I
share the successes the outside world sees. Andremember the days of closed drapes and
sometimes I do. Then I cry, admitting withunplugged phone. Find one safe person. Tell that
humility and horror my insanity and inability, myperson something true about yourself. Repeat.